


I Can't, Without You

by HollowHearted



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Death Cure fixit, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Post-The Death Cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowHearted/pseuds/HollowHearted
Summary: Thomas wakes up to what has to be a dream. But it's not.





	I Can't, Without You

I called out for someone. I didn’t know who. I only knew that I _needed_ them.

“Shh,” I heard a voice say, faintly echoing. “I’m here.”

I wasn’t convinced, whimpering the name again and again before slipping back into unconsciousness.

I woke up briefly, and pulled at the metal against my chest. The necklace Newt had given me. Only, when I looked at it, I realized it wasn’t a necklace at all, but a hollow tube. I opened it and found a letter. I cried myself back to sleep when I’d finished it. I _can’t_ , Newt. I can’t be happy without you.

When I finally knew that I woke again, someone was sitting in a chair beside my bed. I looked up at them, light burning a hole through my eyes and directly into my brain. When I got past the pain I could make out their features.

It was Newt. Beautiful, angelic Newt, fast asleep with one arm in a sling. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, but there was no sign of the Flare. His other hand rested on the bed near me, loosely holding a slightly damp cloth, as if he’d fallen asleep tending me. I felt tears come to my eyes.

Either I was dreaming, or I was…dead. I’d lost him. My dearest, strongest friend, who’d pushed me to be brave and bold and strong, gentle and understanding, like him. To always try and never to give up.

 

And I’d lacked the strength to save him. If only I’d listened to Teresa sooner. If only I’d forced Newt to stay with Gally. If only I’d been strong enough to overpower him and carry him back to the Berg. If only, if only.

“Newt,” I whispered, hating to wake him. He looked so tired.

He jolted awake in an instant, big brown eyes blinking the sleep away and focusing on mine. They filled with relief.

“You’re awake,” he said hoarsely, and cleared his throat.

I carefully took his hand. It was warm, and I could feel his pulse. He was alive, or as alive as a person could be in a dream or the afterlife. I wanted to talk to him, but there were so many things to say, I didn’t know which to say first.

He murmured something about water and started to stand.

“No!” I croaked, holding his hand tighter. “Don’t go.”

He stopped and looked back at me, surprise on his face. Then he gave me a soft smile and sat back down. “Alright, Tommy. No need to break my bloody hand, now.”

I loosened my grip a little. He let his thumb play over my knuckles.

“I reckon you’re a bit confused. Me too, really. The last thing I remember,” More tears came to my eyes as I took in his accent on the last sentence. Please let this be real. I don’t care if I’m dead, but I need him. “is going unconscious after…well, you remember, I’m sure. Then I woke up in one of the other huts here. And then I heard you were in here with some sort of infection. You’ve been feverish for a couple weeks now. It finally broke sometime last night.”

“Teresa,” I said, the words tearing my throat. I couldn’t finish the words. _Teresa gave me a vial of the cure. You need to find it. I can still save you._

His face fell and he pulled his hand away. “She’s gone, Tommy. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head and coughed. My throat hurt too badly to talk more.

“Shh, easy,” he soothed. “I’m going to get you some water, alright mate? I’ll be back.”

Before I could protest, he was gone. But he was back a moment later, as promised. With Minho.

“You’re not dead, too,” I rasped, dismayed.

He and Newt shared a look, and then started laughing. Newt winced in pain and sat down, rubbing his chest.

“No, Tommy. I think you’ve misunderstood. We’re all alive. I made it. No bloody idea how, but here I am.”

I lit up inside. Minho helped me sit up and handed me a glass of water.

“Drink up, you shank. And try not to nearly die on us again. I’m not sitting here like some shuckin’ nursemaid again while you moan and whine for Newt.”

Newt blushed, a beautiful sight, like the first kisses of dawn.

I jumped a little as it all hit me and urgency gripped at my core. “The syringe! What happened to the syringe?!”

“Easy there, slinthead. It’s right there,” Minho said, pointing to the table beside the bed. I flung the empty glass to the floor and pounced on the syringe. I flew to inject Newt, who jumped backward, nearly toppling his chair.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what you doin’?” he squeaked.

“It’s the cure.” He and Minho shared another look. I groaned. “It was me. My blood. Teresa figured it out and made some before Janson attacked us. That’s how Brenda’s fine.”

“So it was the blood,” Newt said, still looking at Minho.

“Musta been,” Minho replied.

“Newt!” I tried to yell. “Come back here and let me give it to you!”

He gave me an achingly soft look. “I don’t need it, Tommy. I’m fine now. If you’re the cure, I’m guessing the blood that was still on the knife started fixing me up in time. When Minho realized I was still alive they gave me the serum, so the two combined must’ve cured me. Still had a punctured lung, though. I’m lucky to be here. Gally has a little experience with punctured lungs, though, so…”

Minho scoffed.

I fell back against the pillows again, exhausted from my little outburst. Newt instantly frowned, concerned.

“Tommy? You okay?” He moved to sit on the bed, feeling my forehead worriedly.

“Just tired,” I said.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Good to have you back with us, Tomboy.” Minho clasped my shoulder briefly and departed.

Newt was blushing a little again, still feeling my forehead. “Your temperature seems back to normal.”

“I’m fine, Newt. You’re sure you are?”

He nodded, taking the syringe and leaning over me to put it back on the little table. He nearly fell on top of me as he sat back up and I had to catch him.

“Not the shoulder!” he tried to warn me. Too late. He hissed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut.

I blurted out so many apologies I’m surprised he didn’t smack me to make me quit.

“Shut up,” he said eventually. “I’m just a little sore.” His expression changed when he looked at me again. “I’m alright, Tommy. I promise.”

       

“Did I really call out for you?” I asked, feeling my cheeks heat up.

He nodded, not looking at me. I gently touched his cheek, turning his face back toward me. His eyes were a little too wide, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m really glad you’re not bloody dead, Newt,” I said, echoing a past situation.

His eyebrows did a funny little thing that made him look very young and very sad. And then he was kissing me, perfect lips pressed urgently against mine, as if he might never have another chance. I kissed back eagerly, cupping one soft cheek.

He let out a soft little sound and pulled away. He looked torn, and a little scared. I understood. I felt the same way, but there was no other option for me.

“I love you,” I said softly.

He let out a breath of relief, leaning forward to rest his head against mine. “I love you, too.”

“C’mere,” I said, extending an arm. He gave me a soft smile and settled down with his head on my shoulder. “Get some sleep,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

“Mm,” he hummed exhaustedly, snuggling closer to me. Before he fell asleep he mumbled, “Guess I need to come up with some sort of Glader wedding ceremony. As long as Gally doesn’t officiate.”


End file.
